Hall of Fame
by missmarthanightingale
Summary: There is a girl, a druid girl. She is powerful, though she does not know it. She has no mother and she has no father. That's what the Druids say, and the Druids don't lie. You may wonder who this girl is. You would be right to, because she is very important. She is powerful and well loved and though she herself has no great destiny, she will shape the future. Her name is Branwen.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

In the forests of Camelot, there are many hidden secrets. The Crystal Cave is one of them; the King would surely be furious to know of its existence. The source of all magic, within Camelot's borders? Unacceptable! The Lake of Avalon is another, and very few know what happens_there_. There are others, of course. The hidden lairs of many magical beings, the resting places of countless magical artefacts. But we don't care about those, or at least, we don't _yet_. What we care about are the Druids hiding throughout the forests of Camelot. Their numerous camps, always ready to leave at the first sign of trouble from Camelot's soldiers. And one camp in particular . . .

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><p>There is a young girl, a druid girl. She is powerful, though she does not know it. She has no mother and she has no father. That's what the Druids say, and the Druids don't lie. Why would they? There's no reason to, after all. And it's not like she needs parents. She's perfectly happy without them. The Druids give her everything she needs. They are her family.<p>

She has many mothers amongst them. She has just as many fathers. She has 5 brothers and 6 sisters. She has a home and the Druids teach her magic and she is never hungry. The entire forest is her garden. She has all the animals as her playmates. She sings with the birds and runs with the deer and swims with the otters and she is _free_, or at least, she is as free as anyone can ever be under Uther's reign. So she is happy.

And of course there is Mordred. Mordred is her favourite brother (though of course Druids don't _have_ favourites, but she is young and not quite a Druid yet, so she is allowed to have a favourite). He is younger than her, but he loves her and she loves him and he always loves to watch her practice her magic and he swears that one day he will be able to do everything she can do. She promises that she will teach him everything that she knows when the Druids say that he is old enough, but it may be years before that happens because they started to teach her magic long before they taught the others, though none of her siblings know why. But what does it matter to them? The Druids surely have a reason, and the Druids are never wrong so why question them?

She is a pretty child, and will doubtlessly grow up to be a beautiful woman, but beauty was never that important to the Druids. She has long brown hair and blue, blue eyes. She is of medium height and she has skin healthy enough that it seems to glow. Her looks are certainly enhanced by the life that radiates from her. She has grown up in the forest surrounded by life and it has seeped into her very bones and it has made her so very wonderful to be around. Once the Druids found an injured traveller in the forest. They healed him as best they could but when he woke and they told him that the bandits that had attacked him had killed all his fellows he seemed to lose the will to live. One day the girl went to see him and she brought him flowers. She stayed with him for hours and when she left he had a smile on his face for the first time in days. She visited him again the next day, and the next. Within a week he was on his feet and walking with her through the forest. The next week he left and the girl was sad to see him go but he told her that he had to go out into the world so that he could show people everything she had shown him. She didn't understand what he meant but the Druids did. She had shown him that there was always something to live for.

You may wonder who this girl is. You would be right to, because she is very important. She is very powerful and well loved and though she herself has no great destiny, she will shape the future. Her name is Branwen.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong>

**So, this is my latest offering. I'm reinventing myself (sort of) and with any luck I will actually get somewhere with this story. I shouldn't have quite so much trouble with this one, because the story is pretty much completely planned out and all I need to do is actually write it.**

**So it starts off pretty innocent, but later (much later) it will involve things that deserve the rating T, so I thought I'd better label it as such right away. It sticks to the basic plot of Merlin as much as I can make it, but there are some pretty drastic changes.  
><strong>

**I will try to update regularly, but I make absolutely no promises. I will _try_ though.**

**Thanks for taking the time to read this! I hope you like it.**

**Martha**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Branwen ran. She ran and ran and ran, using her knowledge of the woods around her and the aid of the animals and her magic and everything she could think of to help her escape but there were just so _many_ and she couldn't escape and if they caught her she would surely die and by the Gods, did they never give _up_?

She had been in the woods with Mordred. She had been entertaining him with her magic, making the leaves dance and the wind sing. He had conjured some little balls of light to join the dancing leaves when they had heard shouting from the camp. They had thought nothing of it – it was surely Jack, in trouble for playing yet another trick. It must have gone wrong though, considering how much noise there was. A minute passed and the noise didn't stop and they began to realise that there was something very wrong. Only seconds later a group of soldiers burst into the clearing and stopped for a moment at the display of magic before them. That moment was long enough for Branwen to see that they were from Camelot, throw a burst of white light at them, take Mordred's hand and _run_.

They came to their senses and quickly followed. Mordred and Branwen had the entire forest helping them, but the soldiers had sheer numbers and she soon found herself separated from Mordred but she could not stop until they were _gone_, and she could only pray that he was safe.

That was how she found herself fleeing through _her_ forest from these soldiers. The birds attacked them and the squirrels threw nuts and the boar charged them and the very _trees_ were coming alive to open a trail before her and close it straight after her and _still_ the soldiers followed her. They were certainly persistent. She hoped that the animals were not being hurt for her sake, but she worried that they were, for surely the soldiers would react to these creatures hindering their pursuit of the wicked Druid girl. They would think it sorcery, though truly it was more kindness and friendship, but soldiers of Camelot would never believe that. Sorcery! Such a terrible thing! Wicked! Evil! What had the Druids _ever_ done to deserve such a reputation?

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><p>It seemed hours before Branwen finally escaped them. Jumping off a cliff was risky, of course, but she had been left with little choice. The trees had caught her, as she hoped they would. They'd kept her hidden among their leaves when the soldiers searched for her body. They knew she was not dead, but they also knew that they had no hope of catching her now. They would tell their King, no doubt, of the druid girl who had enchanted the entire forest to defend her, but fortunately they had never actually seen her face, so their best description would be of a pale-skinned, dark-haired girl of average height. Not much to go on. The King would be furious.<p>

She stayed hidden among the trees until dusk. She lay on the widest branch of an oak tree and watched as the sun left and the moon arrived. She saw the stars come out and smiled. She lingered for a while, reluctant to return and find out what had happened to her family. Soldiers from Camelot meant nothing good and there were surely some dead, perhaps Mordred among them. She should have stayed with him. He was only a child. She shouldn't have left him to fend for himself.

She cast her mind back over the past few years. Mordred was growing up, and so was she. She was of marriageable age now. She had stopped seeing the boys of her camp as brothers. She knew that Eoin had been thinking of courting her, before _he_ had arrived, and _he_ was definitely interested.

She was startled out of her thoughts by a squirrel tugging at her skirt. It chattered at her. She moved out of its way and jumped out of the tree. She should let the Druids know that she had escaped. They would be worried.

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><p>Even with the forest's help it took Branwen nearly an hour to find her way back to the camp. As she drew nearer, she could smell smoke and cooking meat. Her spirits lifted. Surely the attack could not have been so terrible if they were cooking dinner? As she drew nearer still, she could see the light from the fires. It was brighter than normal, but they sometimes had bonfires, for celebrations. They would certainly celebrate surviving an attack like this.<p>

When she reached the camp, she was happy enough. They clearly had not suffered much, if everything was proceeding as normal. They had lost some, no doubt, but not many. They would grieve, of course, but they would recover.

She walked into the camp and screamed.

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><p>They were gone. All of them. Just gone.<p>

They were barely recognizable. Many of the bodies had been burnt by the fires and the soldiers had mutilated those that weren't. They hadn't buried them. They hadn't even put out the fires.

What kind of monster did this? What kind of monster allowed this to happen?

There was no time for her to grieve, not now. She had to bury them. She had to clear up the camp, she had to hide it from the world, and she had to leave as soon as possible. She had to find somewhere safe before she could grieve, for the King would surely be after her and she could not hide from him without help.

She locked her rage and grief and horror away and got to work. She put out the fires and banished the smoke. She dug graves and buried what was left of her family in the centre of the camp. When she realised that the soldiers had left their comrades behind she felt fury rising up in her, but she banished it and buried them outside the camp, marking their graves as those of soldiers of Camelot, for when people came looking for them. She hoped that they would. Surely they were not _all_ monsters.

She was relieved not to find Mordred or Cerdan among them. Perhaps they had escaped? But she had no time to search for them. She would have to trust that they had found each other, for she knew that Cerdan would die before he allowed Mordred to be harmed.

She cleared away the remains of the camp, salvaging what she could and burning everything else. She regrew the burnt grass and conjured wildflowers over the graves. When she was done it was as though nothing had ever been there.

She frowned. This was her home. The camp had been there for more than 20 years. And now there wasn't a trace left of it. She should put something there, some reminder that it had existed. Proof that it was real, once, not just a memory in her head.

She thought back to one of the best memories she had. Midsummer's Eve, a few months ago. They had built a great bonfire and danced around it until the sun rose on Midsummer's Day. It had been a beautiful night. The sky had been clear and the moon had been full and the stars had shone brighter than ever before. Or perhaps that had been her happiness, making the world more beautiful than ever. After all, she had been with _him_, completely in love and ever so slightly drunk. She drew her magic to her fingertips and recreated the scene as best she could. Any who entered the clearing would find themselves in another world, a world that would never change or die. That would ensure that her family was never forgotten.

She hadn't found _his_ body either, though that didn't surprise her. He wasn't always there, after all. She should leave him a message, explaining what had happened, though the clearing was message enough. Perhaps one day she would see him again.

She took one last look at her home. She saw herself there, dancing with _him_. She smiled. They were so close together. She looked so happy.

But now dawn was approaching. It was time to go.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong>

**Now the story begins!**

**You won't find out who _he_ is for some time, I'm afraid, but he will pop up again, I promise.**

**I know that Branwen seems rather cheerful, considering everyone she knows is probably dead, but she is something of an optimist, and Druids never seem terribly ****affected by this kind of thing in the show. I think it went against their beliefs in a way, though I'm not sure.**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

** Martha**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

She had been travelling for a long time. She had found a druid camp not long after her home was destroyed, but they had said that she was not meant to stay with them. They had said that she had to walk her own path, and that they could not help her find it. All they could do was give her supplies and tell her to follow the wind. Apparently she had to find her fate by herself.

But how? She could not survive much longer without company, and all the Druids she had come across had told her that she must journey onwards. And who but the Druids would accompany a sorcerer?

She had had to learn to fend for herself. The animals here were far more cautious than she was used to. Of course, her home was quite remote, but these forests were closer to permanent settlements. The animals were probably used to being hunted. It meant that they did not trust her. It meant that they did not help her. She was forced to find her own food and shelter, and it was wearing on her.

Her priority was finding someone who would take her in. Someone who would not care that she had magic, someone who might even teach her how to defend herself properly, using her gifts. But the only people she could think of was the Druids, and they seemed to want nothing to do with her . . .

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><p>She was running, <em>again<em>. At least this time it was bandits on her tail, instead of soldiers. But really, with the number of patrols from Camelot she had had to avoid, one would think that they would have dealt with all the bandits by now!

She felt a sharp pain in her side and stumbled. When she looked down she saw an arrow in her side. She cursed her misfortune, but she pulled it out and kept running. She could fix it later, but she could do nothing if they caught her. She glanced over her shoulder and cursed again. Why did she always run into the ones who could keep up with her?

She was nearly knocked over by a sudden burst of wind. It started pulling at her, dragging her off to her right. Did the bandits have a sorcerer among them? Was that why they followed her so easily? But if they had a sorcerer powerful enough to control the wind, they would have had no trouble incapacitating her. She was weak (she barely had enough food and sleep to sustain her _life_, let alone her magic. Indeed, she suspected that she didn't, and that the little magic she could access was devoted to simply keeping her body working). So, the wind was not summoned by the bandits. By who then? Could she trust them?

The decision was made for her, in the end. She noticed too late that the pain in her side was spreading through her veins. The arrow must have been poisoned, she thought, as she lost consciousness and let the wind carry her away.

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><p>When she woke she was lying on a hard bed in a low-roofed, one-roomed hut hidden amongst the boulders in a little moss-covered valley. The hut was small and badly lit but homely, with a large fireplace, a table, a few chairs, and many cupboards and shelves filled with all sorts of curiosities. There was a cauldron of stew simmering over the fire, and there was bread waiting on the table. Her first thought was that she should take it and run, but the various blatantly magical objects lying around changed her mind. The owner of the place seemed to have magic, and at least did not object to it, which meant that it should be safe to stay here for a while. She hadn't felt safe in a long time.<p>

She drank from the cup that had been left beside the bed, assuming that it was for her. It did not taste like water or wine, but it helped soothe her parched throat, and gave her some energy. She felt the lingering pain in her side flare and then disappear. She looked down and found that it had been treated and bandaged. Someone had been caring for her. She felt tears come to her eyes. It had been a long time since someone had cared for her.

She ventured outside, but there was no one there. She looked towards the sky and saw that the trees formed a canopy, shielding the valley from prying eyes. It would be very hard to see this place if one did not know where to look. Even if someone did stumble across it, they would likely think nothing of it, since the hut was tucked away, out of sight. She would almost certainly be safe from Camelot here. If she was allowed to stay.

"Good afternoon."

She turned wildly and let loose a bolt of magic at the source of the sound. He raised a hand and caught with magic, shaping it into an orb and gently tossing it back to her. She caught it and it dissolved in her grip, sinking into her skin. She looked up, confused.

The thing that she had been so afraid of was, in fact, a man. A very old man, but a man nonetheless. He had white hair and a short, white beard, big ears and blue eyes. He was wearing the rough clothes of a peasant, but something about him made her feel as though she was facing a man of immense power. Perhaps it was how easily he had dealt with her (quite powerful) magic.

"You are strong indeed, to be able to produce such magic in these circumstances," he said.

He smiled at her. He had a kind smile, and she sensed no ill will from him, despite her attack. He did not seem patronising, and sounded honestly impressed at her power, no matter how pathetic it was next to his.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "You didn't even flinch."

"But that you were able to produce any magic at all is extraordinary," he replied. "You were greatly weakened by the lack of food and rest, and even more so by the poison. I expected you to sleep for at least another day."

"How long have I been sleeping, then?"

"Six days. I found you lying just past the entrance to the Valley of the Fallen Kings. The men chasing you were too afraid to enter. I brought you back here and cared for you as best I could. But as I said, you were very weak. I feared you would not live."

"The Valley of the Fallen Kings? Is that not a place of great misfortune? I was told that none who entered ever returned."

"To some, perhaps, it is dangerous. To people like you and I, however, it is a sanctuary. A place to heal, safe from those who would harm us."

"People like us?"

"Children of the Old Religion. My name is Taliesin. What is yours?"

"Branwen. I am a daughter of the Druids."

"Then why are you not with your people, Branwen?"

"My camp was destroyed by soldiers from Camelot."

"But surely you could have found another camp?"

"I did. Many of them. And they let me stay for a while, but they all said that my future did not lie with them. That I must find another path."

"How inconvenient for you."

"A little. May I stay with you for a while? I feel safe here."

"My dear, you may stay as long as you wish. I would be glad of your company. I have been alone for a long time, you see. Come inside. You must eat if you wish to regain your strength."

"Thank you, very much. Are you sure you don't mind having me here? I can always move on."

"Where would you go, child? If you feel safe here, you should stay."

"All right. I promise I'll make myself useful. My family taught me to do many things."

"And I can teach you to do even more. Come now. We can continue this discussion inside."

So she followed him into the little hut, sat with him at the table, and was content in knowing that, if only for a while, she was safe.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong>

**So. I'm back! Looks like this story's going to have pretty sporadic updates. Sorry!**

**Yes, I brought Taliesin into it. All will (hopefully) be explained in due course.**

**Hope you liked it! Please review.**

**Martha**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

She stayed with Taliesin for several weeks before he allowed her to attempt magic again. He said he wanted to make sure that she was completely recovered, to lessen the risk of her exhausting herself. She wasn't allowed to do much physical work, either, so she mostly kept the hut clean and cooked. Or tried to. She could make a stew easily enough, but anything more complicated than that tended to burn.

He was gone much in those first weeks. She often wondered where, and she'd asked him once or twice, but he told her that it was a surprise. When he returned he would always be carrying flowers or berries for her. He brought back logs for the woodpile and tree roots for stew and every now and then he brought back some small animals. He showed her how to skin them and prepare them and how to make them last and how to use all the parts you couldn't eat, because according to the Old Religion it was a terrible crime to waste the remains of a once living creature. He taught her the hymns that she should sing as she did so, to honour the animal's spirit for allowing them to use its body. She had told him that she wasn't sure that the animal could do anything about it and he'd laughed, and told her that it was more tradition than real belief that drove Druids to sing for them. But even so, he said, it paid to have a healthy respect of life in any form.

Even with the cooking and cleaning, she had a great deal of spare time. She used it to make friends with the forest. The animals were very cautious, but she was gentle with them and she had patience. She did not venture far but she soon knew the surrounding trees as well as she'd known the ones by her home. She still missed it sometimes, and her family as well, but Taliesin had told her that the human soul never dies. He told her that they would someday they would be reborn, and that they would have better lives, then (she asked him how he could be certain but he just smiled at her and said that one day she would understand what he meant). She took comfort in the thought that she would one day be reunited with them. Taliesin told her that until then she must live for all of them.

When the sun set they would sit by the fire and he would tell her stories of times long before the Great Purge. He spoke of days when dragons filled the skies and magic was a perfectly normal thing to see. Sometimes she grew angry that Uther had taken all that away from the world but Taliesin told her that Uther was to be pitied, not feared. He told her the true story behind Prince Arthur's birth, and she found that she still hated Uther a little, because he must have known that _someone_ would have died, but that she pitied him a great deal more. She said, sometimes, that she wished that she could only show the Prince that magic could be a good thing, and Taliesin always got a strange look in his eye and said that that was not her role in this story. That she had a different royal to care for, a different part to play.

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><p>After she started using her magic again, she asked him to teach her to defend herself. He spent the next few days teaching her how to conjure various shields, how to temporarily incapacitate a man. But it wasn't <em>enough<em>.

"I want to learn to fight. Properly."

Taliesin looked up, first in confusion, then surprise, then something a little like fear, before he settled on an inquisitive expression.

"Why would you need to know how to fight?"

"So that the next time someone tries to kill me, I don't have to run away."

A brief look of sadness crossed his face, before it settled again.

"There is no shame in running away, Branwen."

"I _know_ that, Taliesin. To flee when you are attacked is the sensible thing to do. You find an escape route and you take it. But I need to be able to fight, so that next time I don't have to leave anyone behind."

He looked bewildered, now.

"What is this really about, Branwen?"

She sighed and sat down beside him.

"It's Mordred. We couldn't fight, so we had to run. I took his hand and we were running together, but I must have let go, and he could easily be dead now, I would never know. And if ever I'm attacked again I'll probably do the same thing because I can't fight, I can only escape. So I need to be able to do both. When it's kill or be killed –"

"That is not the way of the Druids –"

"I am not a Druid, Taliesin!" Her voice was bitterer than he'd ever heard it. "The _noble_ knights of Camelot saw to that."

He glanced at her. She was tense, almost trembling in rage. Her grey eyes were shadowed with grief. She'd been like this all day.

"It's your name-day. Isn't it?"

She looked up. She was not very good at hiding her emotions and thoughts. Her face clearly registered surprise at his conclusion.

"Why do you . . . How did you . . ." She drew a deep breath, smiled a little, and lowered her head again. "Am I that easy to read?"

"No. But you were all right, before now. This day had to be special, for it to bring back all your grief. It's the day of the new moon. Combined with your age and your comment about being a Druid . . ."

"Clever, Taliesin. Yes, it's my name-day. I should have taken my first oath to the Triple Goddess this evening, but I have no Elder to anoint me. I remember burying his body."

"You know, child, that you do not need a Druid Elder to anoint you. It needs only be a follower of the Old Religion who has taken the first oath themself."

She looked up at that. He was smiling at her, that strange look in his eye again.

"What are you saying Taliesin?"

"I am saying that it's time I showed you that surprise I mentioned. Come. It's about time you saw some more of this place."

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><p>She stared at the massive oak tree in front of her. It looked ancient, and suspiciously clean – Taliesin must have cleared away the moss. The clearing it stood in was well cared for, and had been prepared for the rituals that she would go through in the coming lunar cycle.<p>

The first one would take place tonight, beneath the new moon. All Druid children were officially named on a day of the new moon for this very reason. The new moon symbolised rebirth – in this case, the death of the child and the birth of the woman, on her sixteenth birthday. Taliesin, as the Elder, would anoint her with a paste made from Yew berries, another symbol of her rebirth, and olives, for the peace that was her people's way. He would also scatter rosemary over her, for remembrance of the past. She would swear to follow the old religion and to only use violence in defence and as a last resort.

The second one would happen seven days from now, beneath the first half waxing moon. She would make an oath to the Maiden Huntress. Taliesin would scatter lily petals to symbolise purity, and white lilac for youthful innocence and memories.

To third one would be beneath the full moon, eight days later, for the Mother Goddess. Taliesin would anoint her with crushed mistletoe berries for fertility and protection, and scatter pink carnation for a mother's love.

The fourth one would be eight days after that, the night of the half waning moon, for the Death Crone. Taliesin would scatter poppies for eternal sleep, and marigold for grief.

The fifth and final ritual would take place seven days later, beneath the new moon. Taliesin would scatter starflower for courage, celandine for joys to come, plum blossom for longevity, and white heather for protection. He would speak a blessing, wishing her good fortune in her life, and he would help her rise, symbolising acceptance among the Druids.

He must have spent a lot of time and effort to ensure that everything they needed was there. She turned and wrapped arms around him, struggling to find a way to convey just how much this meant to her. He hugged her back and she knew she didn't need to.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong>

**So. The rituals were cobbled together from various plant meanings. I have no idea if Druids really did things like that, or if they even _had_ name-days, and some of those plants might not even have been in Great Britain at the time, but I did my best.**

**I changed Branwen's description from chapter 1. She's the girl in the cover image (by sulev daekatsu). Her 'blue, blue eyes' are the same shade as Nimueh's (I was never able to describe them eloquently, so suggestions are welcome).**

**Hope you liked it!**

**Martha**


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